


Phlochte Drabbles 90-100

by CupcakeGirlA



Series: Phlochte Drabble Series [8]
Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Double Drabble, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last drabbles in this 100 drabble set. FINALLY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phlochte Drabbles 90-100

90\. Deal  
“How many more swims until we’re done?” Ryan asks. He’s spread out on the floor tossing a ball in the air. Michael smirks. 

“2 for you, 5 for me,” Michael replies. Ryan makes a face. 

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” he pouts. Michael rolls his eyes, turning back to the sports section. 

“You’re gonna have too. Both my dick and my ass are off limits, until Saturday night.” 

“But I’m going to be done on Thursday, and Friday’s my birthday,” Ryan says. Michael pauses. 

“Hmm… what do you think about a birthday blow job?” 

Ryan grins. 

 

91\. Holding/92. Hands (double-drabble)  
They sit you next to each other during the press conference. You take seats behind a long table, your backs to the wall. Your lower-halves out of view of the room full of journalists. 

Ryan takes shameless advantage. At the first touch of his fingers on your thigh you tense, batting his palm away from where it lands on your right knee, but he retaliates by grabbing your fingers in his and squeezing. You try and twist away, all without letting anyone know what’s going on, but he refuses to let go. You let your hand go limp, and he carefully threads his fingers through yours. You relax by fractions, slowly letting your whole arm go slack. You wait for him to do something else, anything else. Sure he has some master plan developing in his chlorine riddled head. But he doesn’t. He just keeps hold of your hand, palm pressed tightly to palm, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. 

You slump in your seat, answering question after question and slowly you get used to the idea. 

Holding hands, you decide, is actually kind of nice. 

Ryan’s knee bumping yours makes you smile so widely it hurts. 

 

93\. Rivals/94. Friends (double-drabble)  
“With the end of this Olympics, ends your greatest rivalry at home and abroad. Thoughts on Michael Phelps’ retirement?”

“Umm.. that’s his choice, and umm I can understand with everything he’s accomplished why he’d maybe want to move on to something different. But I think the U.S. and like all of the world will be losing one of our best swimmers.” 

“Do you think you’ll win more now that he’s out of the picture?”

“Well, I don’t know. I never really swam specifically to beat Michael. I swim because I love it, and I like to race. He’s always pushed me to swim faster, train harder. It’s going to be different without him in the water too.” 

“Now that the rivalry is over, do you think you and Phelps can move past being opponents and perhaps become friends?”

“We’ve always been friends. Outside of the water, we don’t have anything to prove to each other.   
But I think things will be different if we’re not competing against each other anymore.” 

“Last question: Plans for your return home?”

“Yeah, packing up Michael’s place and moving him to Florida. My boyfriend’s going to become a lazy ass while I train for Rio.” 

 

95\. Flash  
Michael stands on top of the podium, Ryan stands beside him, one step down to the right. After the anthem plays Ryan steps up for photos with Michael and he slides an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, holding up his medal and smiling. 

“I’m gonna do it,” Michael whispers quietly. 

“Don’t,” Ryan replies, around a big grin. 

“Come on! Let me do it!” Mike pleads. Ryan glances at him, sees the utter happiness on his face and sighs. 

“Fine, do it,” Ryan whispers. Michael grins, and gripping Ryan by the shoulder swings him around into a kiss. Camera flashes quadruple.

 

96\. Thump/97. Release (double-drabble)  
The thumping was keeping him awake. Not that he could really blame the couple getting it on next door. All those gold medals and having to wait til they’d both finished… No, he didn’t blame them, but Michael wasn’t done yet, and he needed sleep, and he swore to God if Ricky made Rebecca come one more time she was going to have a heart-attack. There was another long drawn out moan. Michael sighed. 

Laughter from the other bed made Michael turn. Ryan was grinning at him in the dark. 

“Are they making you hard too?” he asked. 

“It’s sex. It’s like listening to someone watching a porno, without all the cheesy dialogue,” Michael answered. There was another long moan, a thump, and a hoarse yell through the thin wall. 

“Yeah RIGHT THERE! There! SO GOOD! Oh fuck, Ricky!” the voice was faint but clearly understandable, and Michael smothered a laugh with one hand. He jumped when Ryan appeared sitting on the side of his bed. He moved over letting Ryan stretch out beside him.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” Ryan asked, hand going to Mike’s dick. 

“Sure. Why should only Ricky and Rebecca get to get-off?” 

 

98\. Textbook  
Michael had never done very well in school. ADHD and outside interests made school a chore. But when Michael woke up late on Sunday morning, Ryan’s face smushed into his collarbone, one long arm draped across his chest, and a firm thigh pressed up between his, he indulged in his favorite subject. Letting his hand move slowly across Ryan’s shoulders, and upper back, he read the dips and curves of Ryan’s body like brail. Michael was positive he had every inch of Ryan memorized. This was one type of studying that had always come easily. Freckle placement was extra credit. 

 

99\. Words/100. Admission (double-drabble)  
They don’t say it. They feel it, of course they do. It’s obvious to anyone who bothers to look. But they don’t ever say it. At least not with words.

Michael’s not sure why they don’t just say it. “I love you.” It’s not a mental block on the words. He can say it to other people. He’s said them to his mother, to his sisters, to Herman. Even once to Bob, when he was a teenager and he was so sick with fever he was delirious. Ryan’s said them to his family too, Michael’s heard him. So he wonders why they never say it to each other. 

He tries to say it one night. They’re curled together, the sound on the television turned down low, both half asleep after fucking so hard Michael thinks he might have pulled something. But the words won’t come out. He turns to look Ryan in the flickering blue light of the TV, and nothing. Ryan blinks open sleepy blue eyes, a lazy smile curling slowly across his face. Oh.

“Ryan?” Michael whispers. 

“Hmmm?” Ryan replies, blinking slowly. And suddenly Mike can speak. 

“I love you.” Ryan takes a slow breath. 

“Love you, too.”


End file.
